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4 
4 
The Winnipeg Wolf 
just a little, but his green and yellow eye 
glowed steadily. The Dogs closed in, led not 
by the huge Huskies from the woods—they 
evidently knew too much for that—but by a 
Bulldog from the town; there was scuffling of 
many feet; a low rumbling fora time replaced 
the yapping of the pack; a flashing of those 
red and grizzled jaws, a momentary hurl back 
of the onset, and again he stood alone and 
braced, the grim and grand old bandit that he 
was. ‘Three times they tried and suffered. 
Their boldest were lying about him. The first 
to go down was the Bulldog. Learning wis- 
dom now, the Dogs held back, less sure; but 
his square-built chest showed never a sign of 
weakness yet, and after waiting impatiently he 
advanced a few steps, and thus, alas! gave to 
the gunners their long-expected chance. Three 
rifles rang, and in the snow Garou went down 
at last, his life of combat done. 
He had made his choice. His days were 
short and crammed with quick events. His 
tale of many peaceful years was spent in three 
of daily brunt. He picked his trail, a new 
trail, high and short. He chose to drink his 
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